


One More Night

by tardistype221b (TardisType221b)



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Ghost!Sherlock, M/M, Post Reichenbach, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-21
Updated: 2013-08-21
Packaged: 2017-12-24 04:53:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/935599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TardisType221b/pseuds/tardistype221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock really died when he fell off of St. Bart's and now he's a ghost, trapped in 221B. The only person who can see him is John and Sherlock is bored and miserable. John wants to send him to the other side, but Sherlock loves John and just wants to stay with him, even if it's only for one more night.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One More Night

**Author's Note:**

> The song lyrics used is One More Night by Maroon 5. I don't own this song, I am not any of the members of Maroon 5.  
> Link for song: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BpypkvZjJiI

 

John finally arrived back at Baker Street. It had been a long day and John was on auto-pilot. He would have never stepped into Baker Street at all if it weren't for the fact that he needed to grab his credit card to pay for a hotel room for the night. He walked in and saw Sherlock sitting on his armchair...almost eagerly awaiting his arrival. 

"Ah John, hello," Sherlock said standing up. "I've been waiting for you, it seems I can't-" John stared at him in disbelief, dropping his keys. "John?" Sherlock asked, worried. He took a step closer. "Are you alright?" 

John shook his head, snapping out of it and picked up his keys. "Fine, yes perfectly fine, Sherlock, thank you. Tea?" John asked. 

~*~ 

_Two Weeks Later_

_You and I go hard at each other like we're going to war._   
_You and I go rough, we keep throwing things and slamming the door._   
_You and I get so damn dysfunctional, we stopped keeping score._

John was sitting in front of the telly, trying to watch his programme and Sherlock was sitting next to him, not bothering to watch the show, but just staring. Staring at John like he was some sort of experiment. 

"What do you want?" John snapped at him. 

"I don't- I don't understand," Sherlock said. John looked at him surprised. 

"Oh really? The Great Sherlock Holmes, doesn't understand?" John asked sarcastically. 

"It's just...I'm dead John. I'm a ghost, I have been for weeks and you have not been acknowledging that fact." John looked at him like he'd grown another head.  

"Sherlock stop it. You're here with me right now. You're not dead." John replied. Sherlock knew that he couldn't feed John's denial anymore. He stuck his hand through John's chest. It went straight through and John jumped. Sherlock removed his hand. 

"Is that proof enough to your mind John, or shall I give you a play by play of what happened at Barts?" Sherlock asked, somewhat sarcastically. John glared. 

The memory was coming back to him, suddenly. Had he supressed it? He was standing on the sidewalk, on the phone, when he saw Sherlock fall from the roof. He cried out for him, reached out,  _ran_  to him, but it was no use. Sherlock was dead. He had no pulse, there was blood all. over. the. sidewalk. He had hit his head when he landed, death was almost instantaneous. The part of John that was a doctor knew this automatically. The rest of John wanted to deny that fact forever. It was too late now. John turned to Sherlock and took a swing at him. 

"How  _could_  you?!" John exclaimed. His fist didn't make contact. "Why Sherlock? Why did you do that? I loved you Sherlock! I _loved you_! And you left me behind!" Sherlock stood up and backed away. He knew he couldn't be hurt by John but it was an automatic reaction. 

"John...I had to. Moriarty was going to kill you! There was a gun aimed right at your head!" Sherlock exclaimed, trying to explain himself. 

"I don't care! Do you know what that did to me? I saw you  _die_  right in front of my eyes. Do you know how that makes me feel?!" John shouted at him. 

"I can only imagine John, but please I was doing it for you, Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade. You all had guns aimed at you. If I didn't die then you all had to. I had  _no choice_! I wouldn't have done it if there was any other way. Please John, please believe me." Sherlock pleaded, not wanting his only friend in the world, the only person who could see him, abandon him. John sighed deeply. He couldn't- this was too much to process. He grabbed his coat. 

"I'm going out." He left quickly, slamming the door shut behind him. 

_You and I get sick, yeah, I know that we can't do this no more._  

~*~ 

_A Few Days Later_

_Yeah, but baby there you go again, there you go again, making me love you._   
_Yeah, I stopped using my head, using my head, let it all go._

John had come to the full realisation that Sherlock was dead and that he wasn't coming back. But he still had Sherlock's ghost, forever wandering the flat. Sometimes John caught him staring longingly at his experiment equipment, or his old phone. He couldn't touch anything he couldn't leave the flat, no one else could see him but John, as evidenced by Mrs. Hudson, Mycroft and Lestrade all visiting and not paying any mind to Sherlock. He wore the outfit he died in, the Belstaff coat with the scarf, and under his hair he probably had a head wound somewhere. He couldn't feel it or see it, so Sherlock didn't bother with it. The only things he could do was walk around and talk to John and oh, did they talk. John badgered him with questions all the time, not only about what it was like to be a ghost, but his past, his childhood, his time in uni. Even about the time when he was addicted to cocaine. John wanted to know everything, wanted to be immersed in Sherlock Holmes and never ever leave. 

However, he did have to leave eventually to get food. He was afraid, afraid that when he walked out their door Sherlock would be gone, never to return. This he knew, he could not handle right now. He left resolutely and headed to the nearby Tesco's. He made the trip quickly, buying only the essentials. It wasn't quick enough to satisfy his fear that Sherlock would be gone. John burst into the flat as if Sherlock had gone missing during the short time he had been gone. This was not the case. 

Sherlock was startled by John's sudden entrance and the violin clanged when it hit the floor, a string snapped and Sherlock gasped. John looked at Sherlock in surprise. 

"How...how did you do that?" He asked. Sherlock sighed. "I've been practicing. It's very difficult but if I concentrate I can move things with my mind. I was trying to pick up the violin to see if, somehow, I could play it." He stared at the broken instrument on the floor. "Obviously that didn't work out."  

John went and picked the violin up from the floor. There didn't seem to be much wrong with it, aside from the snapped string. 

"This is easily repairable. Don't worry Sherlock." He put the violin on the table, where it would be safe and out of harms way. "Maybe you should try moving other things while your violin gets fixed. Learn how to use your power better." John suggested. Sherlock's face lit up and John knew that his love for Sherlock had grown so much that he could never let him go.

_Got you stuck on my body, on my body, like a tattoo._    
 _And now I'm feeling stupid, feeling stupid, crawling back to you._   

~*~ 

_A Few Days Later_

_So I cross my heart and I hope to die_

John had gotten the violin repaired and Sherlock seemed to cheer up a bit when he practiced moving things with his mind. It was an interesting skill, something that went beyond physics but Sherlock seemed to embrace it. It wasn't as if he could test it anyways. He couldn't touch any sort of equipment. Him being a ghost made televisions and other electronic equipment, when it was on, go haywire when he was near. John knew that constantly being with Sherlock, only leaving the flat for essentials, was unhealthy but he couldn't stop. Then he saw something heartbreaking. 

He had been sleeping but he had a nightmare and woke up with a start. However, the noise he'd made hadn't been loud enough to alarm Sherlock. The door to their flat was open and Sherlock was standing by the threshold. He took a step forward and it was almost as if this sort of...force-field shimmered and Sherlock couldn't get through. John watched, frozen in shock as Sherlock banged on it.

"Just let me  _go_!" He heard him whisper. That's when he realised that he had to give Sherlock up. He confronted him about it the next day. 

"Sherlock." 

"Yes John?" 

"I know you're not happy here Sherlock. It must be hard being stuck in here, not being able to touch anything or having to expend tremendous effort to move something even an inch. I can't even imagine what you're going through. Surely there's something better, on the other side?" John asked. He didn't want to let Sherlock go, but he knew he had to. Sherlock being stuck here was bad for the both of them. 

"John, what is on the 'other side' as you so call it, is unknown. I know what will happen here, I can be with you. What more could I ask for in life after death?" Sherlock asked. John sighed. 

"Sherlock, I hate to admit it but eventually I will die...and then what? You'll be stuck here inside the flat with new residents who can't see you and you'll have to deal with them and be bored all the time, or you'd drive them away and be even more bored because nothing would change around you. Think about that." 

"I suppose." Sherlock thought about it for a moment. "You do have a point John." Sherlock replied. "What do you wish to do?" 

"Well can't you just, I don't know, swan off in some white light- don't do it now!" John exclaimed. "I want to have a chance to say goodbye." Sherlock shook his head. 

"I can't John. It's a lot more complicated then that I suppose. Some research might be a good course of action to take at this point," Sherlock said. 

"Yeah, I think you're right," replied John. He went to get his computer from the coffee table. "Here we are. Now, what should I put in? How to send ghosts to the other side? That's mad." 

Sherlock laughed a bit. "People post crazier things on the internet John, you would not believe the things I've seen." John sighed. 

"Alright." He typed his search query into Google and pressed enter. Tons of results came up. He looked through them before finding one that looked promising. "Ghostfacers? Let's see what these guys have to say," John said. He clicked the link. 

~*~ 

_An Hour Later_

"Burn the remains? What the hell?!" John exclaimed when he saw the end of the video. 

"These men are clearly idiotic crackpots trying to make some money. Burn the remains..." Sherlock scoffed. "Don't bother listening to them." 

"Hmm, I don't know," John said. "They might be right. Some of the stuff they said is easy enough to check. The poker by the fire place is made of iron, right?" 

"Yes," Sherlock replied, "I believe so." 

"Good." He got up and grabbed the poker from it's holder and swung it at Sherlock. He dissipated into thin air as soon as the iron made contact with him. John gasped. 

"Sherlock!" John exclaimed. He hadn't actually been expecting that to work. What if Sherlock was gone forever? What would he do? That was not the case however, and Sherlock flickered back into existence a few moments later, gasping for breath that he didn't really needed. 

"Perhaps-perhaps I was wrong about them," Sherlock said. John laughed, both in mirth and in relief. 

"Yes, definitely," John replied. Once Sherlock had recovered from the iron they began to talk. "If the iron worked it's safe to assume that the salt and burning the remains works too," John said. 

"I suppose," Sherlock replied, "I never assume, I would rather test out that theory, however-" 

"The only person of whom I know is a ghost is you," John cut him off. 

"Exactly," Sherlock said. "So what is your plan, John?" Sherlock asked. They both knew it was up to him because if John decided to burn Sherlock's corpse, Sherlock couldn't stop him. 

"Let's leave it a night. It's already getting late, we'll talk about it tomorrow." 

_That I'll only stay with you one more night_

~*~ 

_A Few Days Later_  

"John?" Sherlock approached him as he was making tea. 

"Yes, Sherlock?" John replied. 

"It has been days since you told me you would make your decision." 

"Oh, right, about that." John grew flustered and nervous. 

"John, my life hangs in the balance. You do understand that?" Sherlock asked. 

"What? Yes of course I do!" 

"Then why haven't you done anything?" 

"It's just." John fidgeted at bit. "Sherlock, this is a really hard decision!" 

"Right, yes I understand -" 

"I'll be alone the rest of my life if I do this," John interrupted. 

"I don't want to leave you behind," Sherlock replied. 

_And I know I said it a million times_   
_But I'll only stay with you one more night_

"I know," John said. "But you hate it here, I know you do. Being here, being tethered to the flat, it's- it's stifling you, and that isn't right." John confessed reluctantly. "I don't want you to go but I might have to." John sighed. "Just give me some time Sherlock." He finished making his tea and sat down to drink it. He still had to stop himself from making two cups out of sheer habit. "I'm going out Sherlock," he said once he'd finished his tea. They were running out of food and tea. He pulled on his jacket and grabbed Sherlock's old scarf. It was supposed to be very cold today. He grabbed his wallet and walked out of the flat. 

Suddenly Sherlock appeared next to him. John jumped startled. Sherlock looked around in disbelief. 

"H-How did you do that?" John asked. 

"I regret to inform you that I do not know. Shall we experiment?" Sherlock asked, looking giddy. He was outside the flat for the first time in months! John smiled brightly. He was so happy that Sherlock would finally be able to leave the flat. That staved off some of his worries about him. 

_Yeah, but baby there you go again, there you go again, making me love you._   
_Yeah, I stopped using my head, using my head, let it all go._

"Of course," John replied and he exited the building, Sherlock trailing behind him. Just like John thought, no one was able to see Sherlock but him. Sherlock was so happy though, just spouting out his deductions about everything and everyone to John and John trying to refrain from complimenting them, so that he didn't look crazy. It didn't work. Once Sherlock blew off some steam they started experimenting seeing how far Sherlock could go away from the flat. 

Their results were...confusing to say the least. Once he was outside he couldn't go back inside the flat or any other building. He couldn't go too far away from John, more than a half a block and it would be like walking in a very strong wind, nearly impossible. They went inside a supermarket and Sherlock was able to roam all over, more than a half a block away from John. He couldn't go outside though. They made the assumption that Sherlock was now tethered to John instead of the flat. But why? 

_Got you stuck on my body, on my body, like a tattoo._  

~*~ 

_A Few Days Later_

_And now I'm feeling stupid, feeling stupid, crawling back to you._  

"Sherlock?"  

"Yes John?" Sherlock replied. 

"I've decided I'm not going to send you back." Sherlock sighed in relief. He didn't care that his ability to move around in the outside world completely hinged upon John. He didn't care. He got to stay with the man he loved, even though he never confessed that. 

"What changed your mind?" Sherlock asked. 

"Just being able to be outside with you. That's all." And to see you so alive, so like the Sherlock before the-. I just couldn't let you go. John thought. 

"I have to admit, that was one of your main concerns." 

 "Yes, it was," John said, "I just need to know, Sherlock. Are you happy here?" John asked. Sherlock wasn't sure how to answer that. He loved John and he was happy to spend the rest of John's life together but he would be trapped, forced to live by John's whim. It would be worth it, by far, but it would be hateful. He would be happy however, because he got to have John. 

"Yes John, I am happy here." 

~*~ 

_The Next Day_  

_Yeah, but baby there you go again, there you go again, making me love you._  

"Sherlock! You don't have to show off! Give it back!" John exclaimed. Sherlock was having fun with his new power and was tossing the TV remote around the room, throwing and catching it with his mind, it felt brilliant. The TV was full of static. Then there was a knock on the door. The remote clattered to the floor and they heard Mrs. Hudson outside. 

"Yoohoo! John I brought some biscuits if you want any- What was that noise?" Mrs. Hudson asked. 

John looked at Sherlock wide-eyed. 

"What do we do?" He whispered. She had probably heard them arguing, well, John arguing to himself actually. Sherlock was so alive and vibrant, it was hard to remember sometimes that no one else could see him. 

"Just pretend nothing's happened," Sherlock replied. 

"Just dropped the remote Mrs. Hudson! I'll be right there," John said out loud to her. "Don't do anything stupid. I don't want to be bursting out laughing at nothing," John whispered warningly. 

"Fine," Sherlock said and John let Mrs. Hudson in. 

"Oh hello dearie," Mrs. Hudson said, coming inside and placing the tray of biscuits down on the table. "Glad to see you getting out more. All holed up in your flat like that, it wasn't healthy." 

"Oh I know, Mrs. Hudson. Don't worry, I'm going to be going out a lot more often now," John said smiling. He refrained from turning to look at Sherlock who was standing right next to him. They sat down on the sofa, the biscuits on top of the coffee table. "Would you like some tea, Mrs. Hudson?" John asked. 

"Oh yes, thank you John," Mrs. Hudson said. John stood up to get the tea and he was startled when Sherlock randomly appeared in front of him. He  accidentally bumped into the coffee table sending the biscuit tray over the edge. 

"Sherlock!" He exclaimed before stopping himself. He froze, realising just what he had done. He hurriedly bent down to pick up the biscuits, placing them back on the plate. "I'll just throw these in the rubbish, if that's alright?" He asked. 

"That's fine John," Mrs. Hudson said. She seemed a bit off, which worried John. Mrs. Hudson probably thought him crazy now. "I'd best be going actually. I'm supposed to be at Mrs. Turner's." That was a lie and they both knew it but John let Mrs. Hudson leave. Then he sat on the sofa and put his head in his hands. "What am I going to do Sherlock?" He asked. Sherlock sighed and sat next to John. 

"I don't know John." 

~*~ 

_The Next Day_

_Yeah, I stopped using my head, using my head, let it all go._  

Sherlock and John arrived back home from a day out. They went out everyday now on all sorts of excursions. Doing things John would never have dreamed of. Sherlock stalked around the flat. 

"Something's different." He said. 

"Oh, what now Sherlock!" John exclaimed. The cab ride home had been difficult, with Sherlock trying to get John to react and John trying his damn hardest to not react at all. He had been thrown out of too many cabs and establishments ever since he started bringing Sherlock with him. Sherlock's eyes widened. 

"John, don't say another word to me. Mycroft has installed cameras." John froze. That wasn't good. Mycroft couldn't see Sherlock. He would think John was crazy. It was one thing for Mrs. Hudson to think John was crazy, but Mycroft was a whole other matter. "There's one on top of the doorjamb." John went to it and found it. He squashed it under his shoe. Sherlock directed John to the other ones and he destroyed them. 

"That was the last one. You can talk now." John sighed in relief. 

"Thank God. Why would he do that?" John asked. 

"My theory is that Mrs. Hudson talked to him, after yesterday." John nodded. 

"That makes sense," He replied. "I bet he thinks I've gone insane." John said. 

"You're probably right," Sherlock said. 

"That isn't very reassuring," John rolled his eyes. "Thanks." 

"I am only aiming to provide the truth," Sherlock said, faking innocence. John sighed. 

"Sherlock, this really isn't the time. What are we going to do?" He asked. 

"Well Mycroft's men will return with more cameras. Perhaps we should tell him?" John balked. 

"He'll think I'm mad!" John exclaimed. 

"Well, not tell him per say. Invite him over for tea. Let him deduce it." Sherlock replied. 

"And how exactly is he going to do that?" John asked. Sherlock smirked. 

"You'll see."   
~*~ 

_The Next Day_  

John had taken Sherlock's advice and invited Mycroft over for a cup of tea. Mycroft had arrived and John was pouring the tea into the cups. He was nervous. What was Sherlock planning? What should he say? 

"Thank you for coming on such short notice Mycroft." 

"Oh, it was not a problem John," Mycroft said. 

"He's suspicious," Sherlock said and John almost jumped. "He thinks you might need psychiatric help." John fought to keep his expression blank. 

"I have something I want to show you Mycroft, and I ask that you hear me out before commenting," John said. Mycroft nodded. 

"I am willing to hear what you have to say," Mycroft replied. John took a deep breath.  He was nervous. He had never told anyone about Sherlock. 

"Oh just spit it out already," Sherlock said and John sighed. 

"Sherlock's a ghost." Mycroft looked at him skeptical. 

"John, surely you understand that there are no such things as ghosts," Mycroft said. 

"Just wait," John said. "Sherlock, could you?" Sherlock picked up the pen and paper from the coffee table with his mind and wrote, carefully, on the paper: 'Hello Mycroft.' Mycroft looked at what was transpiring with shock. 

"This-this is not possible," he said. 

"Say what you will," John replied, "This is happening." Sherlock relished in the shocked expression on Mycroft's face. He put the pen and paper down. 

"I'm going to try something," Sherlock said, "Give me a minute." John looked at Sherlock in confusion. 

"Try what?" 

"Just wait," Sherlock replied. He concentrated and suddenly Mycroft saw 

Sherlock flicker into existence for a moment. He jumped out of his seat.  

"Sherlock!" He exclaimed. John looked at Mycroft startled.  

"What happened?" John asked, confused.  

"You didn't see?" Mycroft asked.  

"No what happened?"  

"I could... _see_  Sherlock. You were right, John. I am sorry I doubted you." 

"You just believe in ghosts? All of a sudden?" John asked surprised. 

"I've dealt with more supernatural things than you'd expect." Mycroft replied. "I just didn't think that Sherlock of all people would become a ghost, please forgive me." 

"I forgive you Mycroft." John replied. "Any reasonable person would have doubted me. You are no exception." John heard Sherlock grunt and looked at him doubled over in pain. "Sherlock are you alright?" John asked, worried. It took a minute but Sherlock was able to answer.  

"Yes, I'm fine just, drained. I don't think I will be able to move things for a while," Sherlock said. John nodded.  

"That's fine, I think you got the point across." John said. He turned back to Mycroft who was watching John's exchange with what appeared to be air. "Would you have a problem with me translating for Sherlock?" John asked.  

"No, no of course not." Mycroft replied.  

"Good because I don't think Sherlock has the energy to write now, and besides, this is quicker." John said. "Sherlock? You can start."  

"Brother it has been awhile." John said repeating after Sherlock.  

"Sherlock, what happened to you? Why did you do it?" Mycroft asked.  

"Snipers, three of them, trained on Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, and John. They would all be shot if I didn't jump, there was no other way." Mycroft sighed.  

"I cannot fault you for that. I would do anything to protect you little brother. You caused us a lot of grief. Especially John, he was a mess the first few days." Sherlock nodded.  

"I am aware, I was there."  

"You told Moriarty." 

"Sherlock, I had no other choice, it was the only way he would talk." 

"He was manipulating you! Couldn't you see that?" 

"Sherlock I need to talk to Mycroft."  

"About?" Sherlock asked.  

"Your transport to the other side. Just in case." Sherlock nodded.  

"Of course, feel free." He sat down on the sofa observing his older brother and how he had changed over the past month and a half.   

"Mycroft in case of an emergency there is something I need to ask you to do, for Sherlock."  

"What is it?" Mycroft asked. What could they possibly do for a ghost? Mycroft thought. John explained how Sherlock could be sent to the other side and not be stuck here and how he was tethered to this world by the scarf and his remains.  

"So we need to salt and burn Sherlock's scarf and his remains?" Mycroft asked after John finished explaining. John nodded.  

"Basically yes."  

"So when do you plan on doing this?" Mycroft asked.  

"Sherlock has expressed that he does not wish to be sent to the other side yet, hence my need to tell you." John replied. "If someone doesn't do it he's stuck here, forever." Mycroft's eyebrows furrowed.  

"That's a bit distressing." Mycroft replied. John nodded. 

"Yes it is, which is why I am telling you."  

"Well, I will be sure to make the necessary arrangements." Mycroft said.  

"Thank you, Mycroft."  

_Got you stuck on my body, on my body, like a tattoo._  

~*~  

_Three Years Later_   

"John there's been another attack!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Let's go!" John had reopened the consulting detective business. It had taken awhile, and a lot of campaigning to clear Sherlock's name, Sherlock and Mycroft had helped with that, but soon cases had started coming. It had been two years since Sherlock's name had been cleared and this case was proving to be right up Sherlock's street. A brutal string of murders and now Lestrade had just called with the information about the newest attack, it was only a few blocks away from Baker Street so John elected to walk. Sherlock had ran ahead, straining against the tether that kept him close to John. "Come on John! Hurry!" John eventually caught up to Sherlock. He looked around.  

"Where is it?" He asked.  

"Over there." Sherlock pointed across the street and John could glimpse the crime scene tape.  

"Oh alright." John stepped out into the street, believing it was safe to cross.  

Sherlock saw it before John, almost as if everything was in slow motion. A truck, which had run the red light, heading straight for John. Sherlock screamed.  

"John! John!" John turned to look at him.  

"What?"  

It was too late. Since he couldn't pull John off the street, (his ability to move things didn't work on people) he focused on the truck instead. It didn't work, Sherlock found he wasn't strong enough to stop such a large vehicle, maybe if it had been a car he would have been able to save John. As it was, all he could do was watch as the truck rammed into John.John was sprawled out on the ground, bleeding profusely. He smiled up at Sherlock.  

"I love you." Then the light went out in his eyes. He died, and reappeared next to Sherlock, touching him for the first time in years.  

"John!" Sherlock exclaimed. John smiled softly.  

"Sherlock...I've missed this." John said. Then he sighed forlornly. "I'm sorry but I must go now. The lady says I must go." Sherlock looked around.  

"What lady? I don’t see anyone!" Sherlock exclaimed. "Please don't go John, or take me with you." John shook his head.  

"I'm sorry I can't. She says you will find your own way through in time." John said and disappeared. Sherlock finally gave in and cried over the body of John Watson.  

_And now I'm feeling stupid, feeling stupid, crawling back to you._  

~*~  

_Three Days Later_

_So I cross my heart and I hope to die_  
 _That I'll only stay with you one more night_  

Mycroft was standing over Sherlock's grave watching the coffin be dug up by the gravediggers. He had given himself permission to exhume the body for cremation. Sherlock was standing by his side. He wrote into the little notebook he carried with him.  

'Are you sure this is going to work?'  

'For the thousandth time, yes!' Sherlock responded, the pen moving across the page. Mycroft sighed.

'You can't stay any longer?'

'No, Mycroft.'

There was nothing else he could do. He couldn't ask Sherlock to stay for him after all, he couldn't even see him. Not without Sherlock expending a tremendous amount of energy. The gravediggers finished and opened the coffin, then climbed out of the grave.  

"All finished here Mr. Holmes. Do you need anything else?"  

"No, thank you gentleman, I will let you know when I am finished here." Mycroft replied. The gravediggers walked away and Mycroft spoke aloud.  

"This is it Sherlock."  

'Please Mycroft.' Sherlock wrote. Mycroft nodded and unwound Sherlock's scarf from around his neck, dropping it into the grave. He took the can of salt from his briefcase and poured it into the grave, poured some gasoline, and took out his lighter. He flicked it on.  

"Goodbye Sherlock, I wish you the best of luck in finding John." Mycroft said. He waited for Sherlock's reply.  

'Goodbye Mycroft and thank you.' He tossed the lighter into the grave and the body immediately went up in flames. Sherlock screamed and became visible for a second as the flames burned him. Mycroft looked on shocked. Then he disappeared.   

Mycroft took a deep breath trying to calm down, it was like he killed Sherlock again. He walked away from the grave, Sherlock's body burning, the ashes were to be left in the grave, buried next to John's body.  

_And I know I said it a million times_   
_But I'll only stay with you one more night_

~*~  

_An Indeterminable Amount of Time Later_   

Sherlock blinked slowly, his eyes trying to adjust to the light. He was on, was this a sidewalk? He sat up and looked around. He was on Baker Street! Had it not worked? Sherlock wondered. But no, it was much too quiet to be Baker Street. There was grass! On Baker Street! He stood up and went over to the grassy areas. He found, were those bees? There were bee boxes and protective gear, everything he could have wanted when keeping bees. He had always wanted to keep bees when it got to the point where he couldn't work cases anymore. He supposed this would be it. But where was John?  

"John?" He called out, nothing, yet. "John!" He exclaimed louder. Then the door to the flat opened.  

"Hello? Sherlock? Hello?" He heard. Then John peaked out. "Sherlock!" He exclaimed and ran to him, but stopped short just a few feet away from Sherlock. "I-It's good to see you Sherlock, it's been a few months since I've got here."  

"I had no idea it was that long." Sherlock replied. "I'm sorry, I came as soon as I could."  

"I know but, are you real?" John asked. Sherlock looked at him in confusion.  

"What?" Sherlock said. "Of course I'm real. Why would you think otherwise?"  

"Well, Sherlock this is heaven. It gave me what I wanted, which was you. But it wasn't you, not really. It couldn't get you perfectly but it was close enough. So please, just humour me. Say something only Sherlock would say."  

"Vatican Cameos!" Sherlock exclaimed. John ducked, looking around hurriedly, frightened. Then he realized there was no danger and stood up again. "Did that assuage your fears?" Sherlock asked. John smiled.  

"Yes, you berk! Now come here." He pulled Sherlock closer by his coat, stood on his tippy toes and kissed him. Their first kiss.  

 

 

  
**The End**  


End file.
